


Feeling the Rhythm (Inside of My Chest)

by Minxchester



Series: Born For This [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Dirty Talk, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Kink, Mild Language, Missionary Position, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Riding, Vaginal Fingering, mild size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxchester/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: “'It’s the twenty-first century, Cap...lot easier for free spirits like us to enjoy our polyamorous natures.'”Series is inspired and titled based on the song "Born For This" by The Score.[For readers who come here for specific ship tags; this is part of a multi-part series of Avengers porn. Each character is linked to multiple ships. The current installment is centrally Nat x Steve.]





	Feeling the Rhythm (Inside of My Chest)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a 24-part sequence of Avengers porn (one is fluff). :D I hope y'all will join me on the ride.

The fact that they’d gotten away with walking right past two of them just by him just putting his arm around Natasha’s shoulders still had Steve’s head reeling, but he couldn’t exactly complain. As they reached the escalators, he continued scanning all around from beneath the brim of his hat, trying to keep a clear sense of where each agent was, both on the floor they were leaving, and the one below.

Nat stepped onto the rolling black steps ahead of him, within reach without actual physical contact between them. Steve kept his eyes up, trusting her to watch their front.

Abruptly she turned back towards him, her green eyes intent. “Kiss me.”

“What?” He ought to just record his voice saying that one word in a bewildered tone. He could just hit play on the recording every time she threw something at him out of left field like this.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” Nat’s tone left no room for argument, and there was even something like annoyance in her gaze at his lack of immediate compliance. Steve had a feeling that she was going to mock him later for his dumbfounded reactions to her undercover moves.

“Yes, they do,” was the only reply that he could manage, still more confused than on-board with this new tactic. But Nat didn’t clarify further.

Steve had superhuman reflexes and superior senses, so it wasn’t exactly easy to take him by surprise; he saw her moving and, based on the dialogue that had just been exchanged, he knew what was coming, and yet it still made his mind white out and go utterly and completely blank as Natasha placed her hands around the sides of his neck and pulled him down--she was a lot stronger than he’d ever given her credit for, considering that she had no chemical or mechanical enhancers--to press her mouth firmly against his.

For such a hard-edged, sharp-tongued, whip-smart woman, she had the softest lips.

His left hand landed on her waist purely out of instinct. Underneath the overwhelming awareness of how gently her mouth opened to him, and the way that her tongue teased at his lips as if this was familiar, as if it was their thousandth kiss instead of a first, Steve felt her right hand slide up the handrail of the escalator, fingers covering his own, warm and intimate.

It lasted for maybe five seconds, six at most; the amount of time it took for the escalator to reach the bottom. Natasha broke the kiss as swiftly as she had initiated it, turning away from him with a neutral expression--aside from the knowing quirk to her lips--and stepped onto the tile floor.

“You still uncomfortable?” The underlying smugness in the words had Steve simultaneously wanting to tell her off--or to yank her back against him and show her exactly what he was feeling after that little display.

But there was still a strike teams roaming the mall hunting for them, and they had a long drive ahead. If the look in her eyes was sincere, then...they’d have plenty of time to discuss that.

“...that’s not exactly the word I would use,” he settled for replying, following her out of the mall with quick steps.

* * *

The humor was back in her tone, serving as a forewarning that the topic had circled back as anticipated. “Alright, I have a question for you--which you do not have to answer. I feel like if you don’t answer it, though, you’re kind of answering it, you know--”

“What?” he cut her off, tapping his fingertips impatiently on the steering wheel. This was either going to be a very good conversation, or a fucking awkward one.

“Was that your first kiss since 1945?” Straight for the gut. How like her--and how frustratingly refreshing, just like everything that Natasha did. Steve smirked very faintly.

“That bad, huh?"

“I didn’t say that!” He didn’t even need to look over to see the spark of laughter in her gaze.

“Well, it kinda sounds like that’s what you’re saying,” he quipped, turning onto the exit to approach the Delaware River, taking them into New Jersey.

“No, I didn’t--I just wondered how much practice you’ve had--”

“You don’t need practice,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“Everybody needs practice.” Her tone was far too innocent for his liking.

“It was not my first kiss since 1945. I’m 95, not dead.”

“Nobody special, then?” Now the innocence had shifted, staying deceptively light; but there was still that undertone. This was easing away from being just banter.

“Not really a lot of dating opportunities in our line of work,” he replied, his voice a touch quieter. “Don’t meet many people with shared life experience.”

Natasha tilted her head, watching him; then she unclipped her seatbelt. Before Steve could question--or scold--that move, she had shimmied along the truck’s bench seat, bringing herself right up against his side. Steve stilled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as confusion and resistance competed in his mind.

As always, when his guard was even remotely down around Nat, red flags were flying up. There were lines he didn’t cross, no matter how tantalizing they were.

“What word would you have used?” she asked, and now that she was so much closer to him, her voice had lowered. There was absolutely no ignoring the suggestive edge to it. Steve frowned, trying to keep up with where this was heading, and Natasha’s tongue dipped out to moisten her lips. “You nixed ‘uncomfortable.’ What did me kissing you make you feel?”

Steve inhaled sharply. “Romanoff...”

“Ooh, no longer ‘Nat,’ now?” She arched her eyebrows. “Why--am I too close to being right, or too far off?”

He would have closed his eyes if he wasn’t driving, and continuing to drive was the safest way to make sure that his expression and voice both remained calm. “You know the answer to that, but I’m not sure why you’re pressing the point. That’s not an option.”

“Why not?” she asked, and oddly, there was genuine surprise in her tone. She placed one hand on his thigh, just centimeters higher than what could be considered decent. “If you want it...I mean, if just a quick kiss turned you on, why can’t we--?”

“What about Clint?” he asked, cutting her off with both the sharp question, and by dropping his hand from the steering wheel to grip her wrist, forcibly reminding himself not to pinch too tightly. He wanted to reign her in, not hurt her. “Thought that you and Barton are--”

Natasha laughed, stopping his words. She sounded amused, carefree--not in the least bit shy or abashed. “We are. But--and you can’t share this with the others, we only tell when we need to--we’ve also got a wife and two point five kiddos down south.” Steve looked over at her swiftly, his brow furrowed, and Nat hummed as she leaned in a little bit closer, his breath warm on his cheek when she continued speaking. “It’s the twenty-first century, Cap...lot easier for free spirits like us to enjoy our polyamorous natures.”

His frown only deepened at that, though Steve made a conscious effort to loosen his hold on her wrist. Nat eased her palm an inch or so higher, and he knew without a doubt that she could now absolutely feel the hot, hard line of his erection. “You’re--what does that even--”

“We’ve got one rule that supersedes everything else,” Nat murmured, her lips grazing his ear. Steve shuddered at the delicate sensation, and the tremor that went through his body made him unintentionally hump against her hand. She let out an appreciative noise, and Steve blushed, knowing that she was feeling just how big he was. He wasn’t the type to brag, but he also knew facts about averages and outliers. “We tell each other. That’s it. Everything else is... just window dressing and details.”

She chuckled then, finally sliding her hand properly over his cock, and Steve couldn’t have stopped his groan for all the money in the world. He couldn’t help taking his eyes off of the road--just for a second--to take in the sight of it.

He didn’t think he’d ever felt as aroused just by one glance as he did now, seeing Natasha fucking Romanoff’s fingers curving around the hefty length of his erection.

There was a breathless edge in her voice that made him ache to his core, feeling a sudden and violent _ need _ to know how she would sound as he sunk into her body. “Of course, you’re a special case. We’ve been wanting you from the first time we laid eyes on you, star-spangled boy scout though you were.”

Steve swallowed hard, battling to not let his voice crack--and not drive them off of the damn highway. “I...met you first. He wasn’t--there.”

Natasha grinned, and her teeth closed over his ear lobe in a quick nip as her fingers found the button and then the zipper of his jeans, easing them open. “Yep.” Her lips popped hard on the _ P _. “But I knew he’d agree. At the time, though, I was a bit too stressed trying to get him back...” She laughed again. “After he recovered, when you came to get us so we could steal a ride and then go after Loki...all it took was one glance. He went to suit up, looked at me, and just said, ‘Hell yes.’ We were going to seduce you eventually.”

With his jeans opened, she slipped her hand underneath, and let out a little hum. “Well, now, who’d have thunk that Captain America goes commando?”

The truck swerved very slightly. Steve’s hands were white-knuckled as he corrected it. “Don’t always. But the suit’s pretty snug--and today I was in a hurry.” He registered then that he was about fifteen over the speed limit, and Steve forced his foot to rise a little. “I should pull over.”

“Nah.” Nat tipped her face, now properly kissing along the side of his jawline, and Steve felt as if his heart was about to hammer out of his chest. “We’re on a deadline, Cap. You get us there alive...I’m just looking to take a bit of the edge off for ya.” The laughter was back in her voice. “After all, it’s all my fault that you were ‘uncomfortable.’ Least I can do...”

Steve was just about done with her thinking that she was completely in control and he was just clinging for dear life, here. Well--he sort of was, but that wasn’t his default mode. “_ Least you can do _ is ease up on the teasing and get your mouth on me already."

Her tiny inhalation of surprise was highly gratifying. Steve managed half of a smirk before Nat left his throat with one last kiss--almost a bite, not quite enough to mark--and then dropped down.

He felt the cool air conditioning brush his cock as she worked it free from his jeans--and then her fingers, pleasantly warm and sure of their movements, closed around the shaft, angling the head away from his belly. Steve had time for one more hyper-fast glance down--he’d always noticed her hands, they were petite and somehow fragile-looking despite how deadly she was, and _ fuck _ did it look sweet to see one wrapped around his cock--before Nat lowered her head, her lips closing around him and beginning a slow, tortuous descent.

“Fuck--” The word hissed out without his meaning to curse, but Steve couldn’t _ think _ beyond the searing, borderline-unberable wet heat of her goddamned _ mouth _. “Romanoff, shit--I am not going to last like this--”

The slurping noise that accompanied her sliding back off was utterly filthy, and Steve jerked a little, unintentionally fucking up into her grip, smearing her saliva and making her strokes smoother and easier. “I’d hope not,” Natasha whispered, grinning up at him. “This is just quick relief, Cap. We can draw things out a bit more once we have answers. And a plan.”

Back down she went, and Steve only didn’t lose it instantly down her throat because of how hard he was also concentrating on staying within the lines of the road, and not speeding enough to bring the local law down on their heads.

But even Captain America’s willpower wasn’t enough to combat having the Black Widow herself sink down, further than the first time, until the head of his cock breached the snug ring of her throat.

She swallowed around him, the warm, slick channel hugging so tightly around him that Steve was pretty sure he was cursing in languages that he didn’t even fucking know.

He tried to say her name, to warn her--her free hand moved to his thigh, squeezing down in wordless permission--and Steve came hard enough that he actually momentarily saw stars and fireworks sparking off in his field of vision.

“Easy, tiger, you’re lead-footin’ it again,” she whispered, and Steve refocused enough to ease off of the gas, bringing the truck back into safe, controlled forward motion.

Steve glanced at Nat then, heaving for breath and watched as she sat back up with an utterly content little smirk on her lips. She wiped a fingers around the lipstick-lined curves, then licked that clean of whatever traces she had found. “Been wanting to do that for so damn long.” Nat’s eyes were twinkling. “Not so uncomfortable now, right?”

He groaned a laugh, trying to use one shaky hand to tuck himself away again before Nat took over for him, handling his sensitive cock gently and doing his jeans snugly back up. “No, definitely not that.”

* * *

The encounter in the bunker, with its horrifying discoveries, left Steve reeling. Autopilot saved him, as it often did; he had moved without a second’s thought to yank away the grating and reach for Nat, covering them both with the shield and trying to protect her with his own body as debris rained down over them.

For a split second, when the rubble had settled enough for him to rise, and she had found her unresponsive in his arms, Steve had felt pure terror. _ I can’t lose her, not now, please no-- _

But she was alive; and they made it out before Rumlowe and his assholes got to them. Somehow the truck wasn’t destroyed by the missile strike. Steve sped away from the military base, no longer concerned about speeding or not, with Nat on the seat beside him, her head on his thigh as she gradually regained consciousness.

She didn’t speak until they were standing on Sam’s doorstep, and he was blinking back at them in confusion before she muttered that everyone they knew was trying to kill them.

Once they were both showered, Steve stepped into the little bedroom, listening to the sound of the television turning on in the front room. He didn’t know if Sam usually watched TV while eating, or if he was giving them space until they emerged, but Steve appreciated the gesture all the same as he reached over to close the bedroom door, his eyes on Natasha.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, knowing the stupidity of the words. But that was the only way to start, really. They had both just learned some truly disheartening things--some that affected them individually, and some that hit them harder as a team.

Nat’s eyes flickered to his, then back to the wall as she continued toweling her hair dry. “Yeah.”

Steve didn’t have to be any kind of soldier or spy--not that he really was the latter--to know that that wasn’t true. He moved to sit beside her, reaching out to put his hand gently on her knee. Unlike the moment when she’d made her move in the truck, he kept it at an appropriate level for now. “What’s going on?”

Natasha sighed, tossing the towel over onto the dresser and looking at him with tired eyes. “When I first joined SHIELD, I thought I was goin’ straight,” she said quietly, seemingly working through her own thoughts even as she tried to explain them out loud. “But I guess I just traded in the KGB for Hydra. I thought I knew whose lies I was telling, but...I guess I can’t tell the difference, anymore.'

It was hardly a funny moment, but if Steve didn’t at least try to make her smile, then he felt like he wasn’t really being the man she had claimed to have wanted from first sight. “There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business,” he murmured teasingly. Nat’s eyes flashed to his, a hint of their usual fire returning. She smiled back at him, putting her hand over his.

“I owe you."

Well, now, that was a good opening if he’d ever heard one. “We still talking about trusting each other, or is this going back to the mall issue again?”

From the look that got him, she very much appreciated the segue--and the unspoken inquiry that went with it. “Oh, don’t you play coy with me, Rogers.”

Nat raised her hand to his chest and pushed, and Steve went where she guided him, shifting more to the middle of the bed and then back a little, so that he was sitting on it more fully. She rose and twisted in the same movement, her right leg swinging over, and Steve drew a sharp, deep breath as she settled onto his lap in a straddle, placing both hands on his chest and lowering her weight to bring their lower bodies firmly together.

“Christ,” Steve growled, dropping his hands to her hips. He wasn’t even sure if he was pulling her down or rutting his own body up against hers--either way, she was situated perfectly over the curve of his erection, and he could feel the heat of her pussy through both of their pants. The denim was thick, but it couldn’t mask that.

“Got quite a raunchy mouth when you get riled up, Cap,” Nat murmured, before pressing her lips against his.

Steve melted into it. He kept one hand on her hip, and raised the other to tangle it into her hair, deepening the kiss slowly. He let his tongue tease across the seam of her lips, and Natasha moaned, parting to welcome him in at once. “You wanted me all this time, and yet didn’t think I’d be any good at talkin’?” he muttered back, drawing a giggle out of her.

“Wasn’t your words I was hoping for,” she pointed out, and Steve let her push him back and down, hitting the bed. He lifted himself back up onto his elbows, watching her make quick work of the belt and jeans before working his cock free and leaning forward to sink her mouth over him once again.

Steve groaned, burying his hands into her hair and using the grip to guide her head up and down. For a moment, she let him, shoulders loose, allowing him to fuck into her mouth and take his pleasure from her.

Then she drew back again, grinning at the strangled sound he made when he saw her swollen lips. “I’m not swallowing this time, Cap. Waited too long already.” Nat stood in a fluid motion--he would never quite get used to the ballerina-like grace of her movements, in and out of battle--and removed her pants swiftly.

He barely had time to appreciate the view of her naked lower body before she was back on top of him. “Are we actually getting undressed, here, or--”

Natasha’s fingers pressed down on his lips, silencing him. “I got a thing about ridin’ my men while they’re still wearing their pants,” she shot back, grinning when Steve’s eyes darkened immediately, a groan slipping from him. “Clint blames it on the fact that I always get horny when we’re on missions--gotta make it quick every time, usually in a closet or bathroom.”

The mental picture of Nat as she was right then--more skin on display than covered, unlike when she was in the field--with an almost-fully clothed Clint fucking her on some counter or against a wall made Steve shudder, his entire body spasming.

“Oh, did you like that?” Nat whispered, sitting up so that he could appreciate the full view of her bare legs folded around him. His view of her pussy was blocked by his own cock, but before Steve could comment on that being problematic, Nat lifted herself slightly and rocked forward, and Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head slightly as he felt the slick, silky heat of her cunt stroking along the shaft.

“Can’t tell which you like more--me tellin’ you the ways Clint has fucked me, or feeling my body for yourself,” she went on, far too smug for how aroused they both were.

Steve moved both hands to the hem of her tank top, and he had torn it completely open before Nat seemed to have even registered that he’d moved. She gasped in shock, then moaned as Steve yanked again, rending the garment into two separate pieces and tossing them aside without remorse. “Not sure which answer that indicates, but--oh, chertovski ad--Steve--”

He didn’t stop his current task of rucking the cups of her bra down underneath each breast, taking the slip into Russian swearing as a sign that his actions had her full approval. With her tits on display--even pushed forward for him by the force of the bra--Steve curled himself inward in order to close his lips over one nipple, sucking roughly while letting his fingers roam over to twist and tug at the other.

Her voice started rising, and Steve moved quickly; his fingers released her nipple in order to rise and slide into her mouth, quieting her, and he switched his lips over to continue the torment there, bringing his unused hand in to take over on the other tit. Nat made a strangled noise of affirmation, continuing to hump her against his erection while sucking greedily on his fingers as if she could get him off just from that.

Steve let his teeth come into play just slightly, biting lightly, and he grinned when she gave a shocked, airless little shriek around his intruding fingers. “Need to be inside of you,” he growled around her nipple; her keening squeal seemed to be in rather firm agreement.

Natasha batted at his hands--she had no chance of ever restraining or stopping him just based on strength, but she radiated confidence in her ability to set the pace, and Steve would never deny her.

He dropped back onto the bed obediently, raising his head just enough to watch--and fuck, what a goddamn stunning visual that was--as Nat lifted herself up, her pussy slick enough that he could _ see _ the moisture, both on her cunt lips and on his erection--and then she placed the head of his cock at her entrance, and sank down, fast and smooth.

Contrary to popular belief, Steve was not a virgin--a gentleman, certainly, but not a novice to the female body.

And yet, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything as heavenly as Natasha Romanov’s body welcoming him into it, _ wethottightperfect _ , and as she bottomed out she groaned and clenched down, both of which caused a vibration that felt as if it rippled down through her body, around his cock, and into his very soul.

Steve wasn’t even sure if he was breathing, his hands flying to her thighs--fuck, his palms were so wide that his fingers spanned the lean columns of her legs--and beneath his thumbs, Steve could feel the muscles working and flexing as Nat settled, got comfortable--

\--and then she started moving in earnest.

“Fuck!” Steve’s head flung back as she rolled her hips, and she grinned triumphantly. Once she found her rhythm, she didn’t seem inclined to stop--and he couldn’t have asked her to even if it would save his damn life.

Nat moved like she was composed of pure elements; her body rocked and gyrated, legs flexing and softening beneath his touch as she lifted herself up and then let herself slide back down, riding his cock and taking it in from tip to base each time. On every other stroke, he knew he must be hitting a sweet spot, because she would whimper or moan and her toes would curl against his thighs on either side.

Steve watched her with raw worship in his gaze, taking in the way that she ran her hands over herself as she moved. Her eyes were on his, sharing this moment with him as intimately as was possible--but she knew her own body, and she was taking her pleasure just as confidently as she was giving him everything.

“I need you to come inside of me, Cap,” she whispered, and Steve felt himself tipping closer to the finish line just from those words on her clever, ruthless tongue. “I need to feel this huge cock spilling in my cunt--please, please let me have it--”

The sound that left him could only be called a snarl--but she was far from being put off by it, judging by the way she gasped and tightened her inner muscles around him again in response. Once more, Steve moved before conscious thought had told him what he was doing, rolling to pin her to the bed and falling between her legs like he would die if he wasn’t touching her, inside of her, claiming her--

His hands found her hips; he braced his knees; and Steve buried himself to the hilt, fucking into her once, twice more--when he came, thrusting in as deeply as he could without hurting her, his teeth closed down on the taut line where her shoulder and neck made, muffling the cry that Steve let out as he let himself go, releasing inside of her.

It was only as the white noise started fading from his mind that he registered his selfishness; Steve started slightly, lifting up onto one arm. “You haven’t yet--”

Natasha grabbed his hand, and Steve more than willingly let her guide him to where his slowly-softening dick was easing out of her. “Fingers,” she growled succinctly. “In me. Thumb on my clit. C’mon, impress me, Rogers--”

That was all the instruction that he needed from her.

The instant that she let go of his wrist, Steve slapped his hand down over her pussy--Nat arched off of the bed with a choked-off scream that would no doubt have deeply concerned Sam if it had been properly audible--and then he pushed three fingers inside of her while working his thumb over her clit as requested, hard and fast. He was fairly certain that she could’ve taken four fingers, given the comparative size of his cock, but this was clearly more than good enough.

When Nat came, Steve watched her face, taking in every little twitch and blink and soundless shout as she rode his hand. Christ, he could not blame Clint for his devotion to this creature. From now on, he intended to share it.

At last she went limp, and then after a few more seconds of his leisurely fingering, she made a faint sound of over-sensitivity, and Steve finally stopped.

As his fingers slid out of her, Natasha lifted her head, peering down at him; Steve smirked, holding her gaze as he lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking the mixture of both their come from his skin. Nat whined, her head dropping back onto the mattress again. “Der’mo, Rogers. You’re filthy.”

He grinned, slowly easing up the bed in order to lean over her and press a gentle kiss to her crimson lips. “And this is just the beginning,” he whispered, watching as she smiled at that, and nodded, her eyes sinking closed in post-orgasmic bliss.

There was a very light knock on the bedroom door, and Steve stilled, torn between a grin and a sheepish flush as Sam’s voice drifted through. “I made breakfast. If you guys...eat that sort of thing.” There was a beat, and he added. “And if that was clothing that I heard rip earlier...I’ve got tanks and sweats in the second dresser drawer.”

**Author's Note:**

> The ships in this series vary and overlap, so hopefully no one ever feels super squicked by a pairing/group in a given installment. But feel free to hit me up on Tumblr @minchester if you want to know who all will be featured/shipped.


End file.
